


Worth It

by QueenOfSkaro



Series: AUs [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, amputee! Bucky, chatty!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:16:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3841948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfSkaro/pseuds/QueenOfSkaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He saw him coming down the street, white t-shirt already drenchend in sweat from his morning run leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination and Bucky couldn't stop the sigh that left his lips at that. Yes, this was definitely a reason to get out of bed in the morning. His therapist was fucking right.</p><p> </p><p>You jog past my house every morning AU<br/>and<br/>You just kind of moved in AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth It

It was always the same routine he went through every morning, something his therapist recommended him after his accident. It helped him to get out of the bed, even when he had a bad day where he wanted nothing more than to stay curled up under his covers and ignore the world outside his windows. She said it would help him when he knew exactly what to expect of the first minutes of his day, would keep him stabalised and hopefully anchor him enough to get him to his work without having a break down. So far it was a tactic that was succesfully working. He hadn't stayed home through the last year without having a really good reason - he was so sick one time he couldn't get out of the bed without puking and getting a splitting headache and no one wanted to see him that way anyway, so it wasn't exactly a loss for his colleagues - technically they were his employees, but Bucky -- James Barnes, but he wasn't very formal on the best of days -- never saw himself as a big boss and, while he mostly managed the books of his car repair shop now, he didn't mind getting his hand dirty either when the situation arose. 

So he rose every morning at half past five, took a shower, shaved and put his prosthesis on. He lucked out with that one, he knew, because he got that one especially made for him after the train crash he lost his arm in. There were just a handful survivors with over one hundred dead and Stark Industries contacted them while they still lay in hospital, wanting to help them with tech no health insurance would ever cover, even though it was probably mostly for the good press. Bucky wouldn't look that particular gift horse in the mouth, because now he had this sleek high tech metal arm that was probably working better than his old one. The only downside was that he needed half an hour to strap it on alone. Still, better than any alternative. 

It was a few minutes to seven when he poured himself a cup of coffee, forgoing any food and set down on the windowsill right beside his front door, where he could look over the street and the people starting to go about their day. He looked down the street and waited the few minutes he knew he had to, because it didn't change for ongoing four months now, becoming a part of his morning routine long ago. And there, a couple of minutes after seven o'clock he saw him coming down the street, white t-shirt already drenchend in sweat from his morning run leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination and Bucky couldn't stop the sigh that left his lips at that. Yes, this was definitely a reason to get out of bed in the morning. His therapist was fucking right.

He let himself mourn the fact that he didn't dare to talk to him, but only for a few seconds. He wasn't the man anymore that he was before the accident, even with his prosthesis terribly insecure, because while highly functioning it was still very much a metal arm, not a real one. And people liked to stare at it. A lot. With varying degrees of pity and curiosity and disgust in their eyes, but all of them stared. He could have chosen a sleeve for it, so it looked exactly like a real arm, but - he always was stubborn. He had his pride, despite everything and even though he sometimes forgot it. He would shoulder through this like he did with everything else in his life and some day he would come out of it stronger, better and then it would have been worth it. Until then he would make do. 

He would stand up every morning and go about his routine and ogle his eye-candy, before he had to leave for work and he could very much live with that. 

\---

This day already started terrible and Bucky just knew it wouldn't get any better. He overslept, which happened exactly never before, but obviously his alarm clock was broken or there was a little power outage or something because it just showed a row of blinking zeroes. So he was late, like monumentally late on the day he had to speak to Mister Pierce, who was a giant asshole, but one of their best clients because he got that used-car business one block down and brought all the cars in when they needed a little make over. He never paid as much as they deserved, but it was a steady income and that was always a good thing, no matter if they could get a little more money out of it. 

Bucky knew he would push the price down even further if he didn't make it in time , so he didn't shower, shaved fast enough it was a miracle he only cut himself once and pinned his sleeve up, no time to get the prosthesis on. He was out of the house without looking at the clock again, already running late for this way too early scheduled meeting so it was a surprise to nearly knock down the blond man he always watched running through his window. 

"Sorry, I'm terribly late. Good morning." he smiled without thinking about it, completely at ease for a second because he wasn't stuck in his head for once, already ripped out of his routine. But his smile fell as he saw the other staring at him without saying anything and yes, this day would be hell to get through, he knew. He quickly lowered his head and got in his car.

\---

The day was over at last and Bucky couldn't help but sigh in relief when we was woken by his alarm at half past five. It's was alright to have a bad day. They were over after twenty four hours and the next one would be better. This day would be good, he told himself as he stood up and went through his shower, his shave and the attaching of his prothesis. He made himself a cup of coffee and hesitated the first time in months before he sat down at the window. He could still look, couldn't he? Maybe the illusions were shattered, but the blond was still absolutely delicious and it wasn't as if he had expected anything else should he really ever try to talk to him. People stared, that's what they did. No surprise, no harm done.

He had to wait five minutes before he saw the jogger coming down the street, looking directly into his window. He backed off quickly, standing to the side were the man wouldn't be able to see him. Maybe that was childish, but if he wasn't seen again, he wouldn't stare. Bucky didn't want him to stare.

\---

New morning, new day and Bucky stood a little lost in front of his window, unsure if he should continue this part of his morning routine. He wanted to, he couldn't even explain it to himself, but he was utterly captivated from the blond and he didn't want to stop watching him. He ended up to the side of the window, observing a jogger who looked to his window as he run by. 

\---

He saw him coming to a stop in front of his house and his heart started to hammer against his rib cage. This never happened before. He never just stopped and oh god, was he coming to -  
A heavy knock against his front door and Bucky shut his eyes, fighting off one of this irrational panic attacks he didn't have for almost a year. He was safe, no danger in sight and he didn't have to open the door. He was home and he was safe and the other man would go soon. 

\---

Bucky didn't know what was so special about that blond, but he didn't manage to gather his strenght to talk to him, afraid of being judged again. He couldn't stop thinking about him, wasn't brave enough to tell him to just fuck off and some small part of him even relished this attention. But that wasn't the part that let him stay in his bedroom until the knocking stopped, because it was the place furthest from his front door. He felt like a failure.

\---

There was a letter in his mail box. Alright, that didn't sound special, but it was the fact that it didn't go through the post that made him rip it open while he still sat in his car in front of his workplace. It was just a few lines, not even addressed at anyone.

_I'm sorry I was so rude the last time._  
Can't stop thinking about that crestfallen look on your face  
and I know I never want to see it again.  
I probably should have said hello, but my brain was kind of short circuited  
because, to be frank, you're absolutely gorgeous.  
For some reason it's incredibly important for me to tell you.  
I don't know what you thought that moment, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't  
anything nice.  
So there. That was the reason I wasn't able to tear my eyes off you like  
we were in some sappy movie. You're absolutely breathtaking.  
And sorry again if you don't want some guy say something like that to you,  
but I guessed it was better than any alternate bad thoughts going through your head.  
Thought you should know.  
Warm regards,  
Steve. 

Steve. He was called Steve. And he stared because he thought Bucky looked good. That hadn't happened in so long he didn't even think about anything like that. He felt like an idiot.

\---

Unsure how to explain himself, because he never had to besides his therapist, he decided to do this Steves way and write a letter. That he first tried to talk to him like a normal being was completely ignored, because Bucky didn't do talking really good. Not that he was any better when it came to writing his thoughts down, but that way he couldn't stammer at least, he could just scratch things out or throw the paper away.

_I'm sorry for overreacting._  
I should be used to the stares by now,  
because everyone does,  
but I'm still not.  
It's alright, don't worry. 

It wasn't much, but he guessed it would be enough so Steve would stop feeling guilty and could go about his life like normal, leaving him alone again and when that thought hurt more than it should he made sure to ignore it. He placed the letter in front of his door shortly before he was due for his rounds and leant against the wall next to the window again.

\---

That's not what was supposed to happen. Following everything he knows, Steve should have just left him alone again after that. No guilt needed, he didn't have to bother.

Not bothering wasn't to stand directly in front of his window, unsure little smile on his face and a bag from Brooklyn Bagel & Coffee in the hand he waved with, before noticing and starting to wave with the other, looking directly at where Bucky was standing and dear god, was he able to see him there? Could he see him the entire time? He was almost embarrassed enough to just let him stay outside, but he already had the door halfway open as he thought that and Steve didn't wait long before shouldering his way into the house, now that Bucky let him in at last.

"Hello. I brought bagels. Well, obviously I did, it's written on the bag. I thought we could have breakfast together, maybe make this a thing, because I'm always at the end of my round when I get here and it's way nicer to eat in company than alone. Where are your plates? Ah, there, brilliant. Cuuuuu - got it. Coffee is finished already, that's good. Get the things to the table, would you? Oh, I'm Steve by the way. Steve Rogers."

Completely speechless and a little overwhelmed Bucky just did as he was told - in his own house - and set the table. Steve was a whirlwind of speech and smiles and a presence so extensive he felt tight and warm all over, but in a good way, if that made any sense.  
"I'm Bucky.", he mumbled as an answer, because he kind of forgot how to speak with people, let alone strangers. His social life included his colleagues - employees - and his best friends Natasha and Clint, who he knew since before his accident. They were the only ones not scared off by his yelling and cursing the first months in the hospital and rehabilitation and stuck with him through it all, but that didn't mean that they were talking everyday. Mostly they saw each other roughly every two weeks, for food and video games. Clint was one hell of a cook and Buckys prosthesis was good enough to play against Natasha and while still losing he was at least better than Clint.

"Hello Bucky. Nice to meet you. Officially. Do you drink your coffee with milk or sugar? No, let me guess. Just sugar." He gave him his cup after he nodded numbly, but then the he froze. "Oh dear god, I'm completely soaked. I never thought of that. I must look absolutely horrid. And the smell. How in all the world do you manage to stay in the same room with me?"

That was what set the brunet off and he started to laugh, a little disbelieving and hysterical, because when exactly did this became his life, having a stranger in his kitchen - his stranger - that was talking his ear off, bustling through with a grace completely unfair for someone of his size to possess and a determination to not only shoulder his way into Buckys house, but obviously his life too. He didn't know when the last time was that he laughed like this.

\---

"I run two hours every morning. I need to, or I would go crazy. I'm an accountant, you know, and somehow I need to get all this energy out of me. I would like to do more, but I don't have more time before work and after - well, I kinda just strand on my couch watching netflix, to be honest." Steve told him the second week into their little breakfast club. Bucky had told Natasha about it - she would have found out anyway - and she just stared at him with a raised eyebrow. Which she did often enough not to think about it any further.

Now though an uninvited image of another way to burn off any excessive energy with Steve came to mind and the older - just a few months, but Bucky would hold it over the blonds head - had to bite his lip to keep from suggesting it.  
"How did you end up in that kind of job?" he asked instead, because he managed to say something at times without looking and feeling like a fool by now. 

"Oh, I love numbers. I was kind of a nerd in school. Scrawny, small, got this really serious asthma. Always had to have my inhaler with me or I would have been screwed. When you look like that you need to have something in your head to make it in the real world and after I hit my growth spurt when I got eighteen and kinda out grew my asthma I really realized for the first time how shallow most people are. Were they just ignored me before they wanted to befriend me all of a sudden, just because I looked different. I was still me, you know, still the same love for comics and american history and with a shelf full of science fiction novels, but now it was suddenly cool and I really couldn't understand that. Still can't, to be honest, people just go over my head most of the time. So I made the decision to stick with my former job choice, because if I thought I'd love that job before, why would that change just because I could grow a beard at last?"

There was so much he wanted to ask, wanted to talk about, but as always he was kind of overwhelmed from all the information Steve just threw around whenever he opened the mouth.  
"You weren't able to grow a beard until you were eighteen?" he settled on at last, which got him thrown at with a muffin.

\---

Steve really managed to make it a thing, coming by every morning on working days with something or other to eat, his mouth running a mile a minute and Bucky loved every second of it.

\---

It soon wasn't enough anymore and the older found himself thinking about how long it would take him to get to Steves work place on his lunch break. It wasn't that far, he could even walk there in barely ten minutes and he was his own boss, it wasn't as if he wasn't allowed to extend his break a little. He always worked long into the evenings anyway, not having anything better to do.

So he found himself outside the building his friend worked in, nervous and unsure if he was even welcome, but he was too proud to turn around again. Flexing his prosthesis he entered and, after a quick look around, he made his way into the third floor. Steve talked enough about his work that Bucky was sure he could guess a few names from the people he saw about, it wasn't that hard to find office 314. It was a little harder to knock, though. What if he wasn't welcome? Was this some kind of invisible line he was crossing, or was this perfectly alright? Would Steve think him obtrusive? Before he could decide if he wanted to bolt or knock the door was opened and Steve almost walked over him. Astonished he stood still and Bucky controlled his breathing, until his face split into a giant smile.

"Buck! What are you doing here?" he asked and he seemed so honestly happy that all the tension drained from the brunet. It was probably pretty obvious, but Steve didn't say anything to that, just smiled a little softer.  
"I brought lunch." he said in way of explanation and waved a bag with sandwiches, which was taken out of his hand promptly.  
"Brilliant, thanks, pal. Come on, there's this tiny patch of green just behind the building, we can eat there."

\---

"You ready, Buck?" came the voice from the front of the shop and the recipient couldn't stop the helpless little grin from spreading on his lips as he felt the warmth rush through his body, like it did every time Steve was near him. Clint teased him, but it wasn't as if he wanted to do anything about it. He was just happy right now and most of it could be led back to the blond and his mere presence. He wasn't an idiot, he knew he was in way over his head, but he wasn't in any rush to do anything to solve it. Bucky never experienced something like this before, but it seemed completely sufficient to just be together, no kissing or excessive touching needed. 

"Coming.", he called back, shut off the computer and put on his jacket. They were going to the movies and no matter how much Clint cackled, this was not a date. Not any more than their other get-togethers.

\---

This was a thing now, too. This picking each other up from work and doing something together, because alone they wouldn't do anything anyway and they always had fun, so why not?  
So it wasn't anything unusual to go to the movies, or into a diner, or tinker together on one of the cars Bucky had in at the moment. They could cook together, or order in, or fall asleep right after sitting down on Buckys huge couch, because their days were too taxing. He introduced Steve to Clint and Natasha and after an antagonizing hour of interrogation - "No, no, it's fine, Buck. It's a good thing they care for you this much, don't worry." - his redheaded friend took him to the side and told him she approved. And that he should fucking kiss him already. He just shoved her out of the way and snorted.

\---

One drawer in the bedroom was full of Steves things, because he fell asleep most nights on the couch and didn't want to go back home to get new clothes for work and his morning run. Bucky bought a new toothbrush and hung a second towel in the bathroom. Steve had a favourite mug and would hog the remote whenever the brunet looked the other way. He took over chores to be useful and started to nag about Buckys bad habits. They told each other about their day at work and played footsie under the table.

\---

When it finally, inevitably happend, it wasn't something big with fanfare or a candlelit dinner. There weren't angels singing in the back ground and no fireworks exploded in the distance.  
Bucky just stopped in front of Steves work place, dropping him off there every morning, before he leant over the middle console of his car and kissed him softly. They lingered and savored it, but didn't drag it out. Steve looked at him with that soft eyes he always got when he saw that Bucky was only really comfortable around him, losing all the tension that piled up over the day from being around other people.

"Have a good day at work." the brunet smiled, because that was a thing he did now, too. Smiling. Lots of it.  
"See you at lunch." the blond answered, leaning over again for another quick peck and was out of the door a moment later.

\---

Blinking blearily at the lit clock over the tv Bucky heaved a sigh, before slowly sitting up. They fell asleep on the couch again and his back wasn't exactly thanking him for that. He nudged his boyfriend a few times until he got a grunt in return.  
"Bed." he ordered, stood up and helped the other find his way into the bedroom. They didn't talk about the fact that they maybe fell asleep cuddled together on a couch, but never lay together in a bed before. That was the nicest thing about their relationship - there was an awful lot of talking, but simply no need to talk about things. 

\---

"Good news." Steve declared after coming into the garage with a familiarity you only got when you did something a few dozen times already. "We can start to save up for that vacation you wanted to go on."

"Yeah? How so?" Bucky asked with a raised eyebrow, even though he wouldn't see it, with him bent over the engine of a car.

"I terminated my lease."

"Bout fucking time."


End file.
